


Need

by AlexHazza



Category: Dunkirk (2017)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Codependency, Internalized Homophobia, Love/Hate, M/M, More like need/hate but there's no such tag, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-22
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-12-05 08:42:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11574519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexHazza/pseuds/AlexHazza
Summary: Tommy isn't even sure he likes Alex.Sometimes he hates Alex--hates how much he needs him.[Complete]





	1. Chapter 1

He's fine.

They're home.

He's fine.

Tommy keeps mouthing the words to himself, staring at the dark sky unblinkingly. No sound comes out; he's still too wound up to talk, to make a noise. Making noise gets you dead.

He's fine.

They're home.

Except they aren't. They might be back in England, but there's no guarantee he'll see his home anytime soon. He will probably deployed again-- back. Maybe not to France, but somewhere as scary and--

"You asleep?"

Tommy blinks. He doesn't need to turn his head to recognize the voice. It's him. Alex. The selfish prick who had the guts voicing what he, Tommy, didn't dare thinking about. Alex.

Tommy still isn't sure he likes Alex.

Sometimes he thinks he hates Alex.

"No," Tommy says. He hates how shaky and quiet his voice is. It's been eight days since they got back. Shouldn't he feel normal? Why can't he be more like Alex, who seemed to wallow in guilt and shame for a total of two days before shaking it off and getting all confident and cocky and so bloody self-assured?

Tommy fucking hates him for that.

He also hates that he kind of... needs that prick around.

Even admitting it in his head makes Tommy scowl, because he doesn't--it doesn't make any sense. He hates the bloke, and yet...he feels panicky and sick whenever Alex isn't around. It's probably trauma. Of course it's trauma. They all probably need a shrink to get their heads screwed right.

"I'm cold," Alex grunts, in his annoyingly deep voice.

Tommy glares at the dark sky. He knows where it is going. "Sleep in the barracks," he says. He tries to keep his voice firm but probably fails.

Alex scoffs. "I would--if there were any space." His voice drops a little, gets thick and slow. "Come here. I don't want to freeze to death."

"You won't. It's June."

"A chilly as hell June. Come on, mate."

Tommy squeezes his eyes shut and grits his teeth, determined to ignore him, but the thing is...

He wants to do as Alex says.

He wants to sleep next to him.

It's bloody sickening how much he wants it. His body _aches_ , wanting to be held, wanting to feel another person's warmth, another person's strength. Alex's strength.

"Come on, Tommy."

Tommy sighs, sits up and looks around. There are other soldiers that chose (or were forced) to sleep outside, but he and Alex are a good distance away from them. He can't even see anyone, not in the dark. They won't be seen.

Not that there's anything wrong with sharing body heat on a chilly night with a fellow soldier. Of course there isn't.

"Fine," Tommy mutters before pushing his makeshift mattress to Alex's and stretching out on top of it with his back to Alex.

The next moment there's a firm, long body pressing behind him and a strong arm around Tommy's waist.

Tommy closes his eyes, breathes in, then out.

It doesn't work. He's still trembling, his skin itchy and hot. It's probably because he hasn't bathed in days-- since that time he and Alex washed in the tiny river nearby. They should have probably washed separately, but neither of them was comfortable around water, so they did it together--just like everything else they do these days. Tommy hates it, hates how much he's become part of AlexandTommy. Other soldiers look at them strangely, but no one comments; they all got some weird coping mechanisms after Dunkirk. He and Alex probably aren't even the weirdest.

"Why are you so fucking tense?" Alex murmurs, his warm breath brushing Tommy's ear.

Tommy bites his bottom lip, praying for the pain to distract him from the sickening effect Alex has on his body.

He just hasn't had sex in so very long. That's it. He isn't--he isn't like that. He's normal.

"You stink," Tommy says tersely.

Alex makes an outraged noise. "Me? And you smell like flowers, huh?" he says, shoving his face against the side of Tommy's neck--and fuck, what is he doing?

"Stop that," Tommy manages, biting back a moan as Alex _nuzzles_ into his neck, soft lips and rough stubble rubbing against his skin.

He's normal, he's normal, he's normal--

Tommy moans, his cock so hard he feels dizzy.

Alex pauses.

Fuck.

Tommy breathes, his face hot and his cock still hard as a rock despite his mortification.  
Pervert. Of course Alex will call him a pervert. Maybe he will even beat him up.

To Tommy's shame, his cock actually twitches at the thought. He's sick. He's absolutely sick.

Alex clears his throat. "Been too long without a bird, huh?" he says with a soft chuckle.

Tommy breathes out. "Yeah," he says weakly.

"Me, too," Alex says, his voice dropping to a hoarse whisper.

A pause.

And then Alex says casually, "Wanna help each other out?"

Tommy sucks a breath in.

"Sure," he says before he can stop himself. It's a bad idea, it's a bloody terrible idea, but he--he fucking needs it. And besides, it won't make him...not normal. What's a shared wank between mates, right? It's not a big deal. Not that Tommy has ever done that with a bloke, but he's heard that some blokes--some totally normal blokes--do it sometimes. Right?

Suddenly there's a hardness pressing against his arse. Alex's cock. Tommy shivers, his own cock aching.

"Please," he whispers, and God, it's such a bad idea, but Alex's hand is already pushing his trousers down and then--fuckfuckfuck--it wraps around Tommy's cock, large and calloused, and it's so good, so bloody good, and Tommy can't breathe. He whines, needing more.

Alex bites him on the neck and starts stroking his cock hard and fast until Tommy is a moaning, trembling mess, needy and pliant in Alex's arms. It's wrong--he's not a fucking bird, but at this moment he almost wishes he were, so that Alex could put himself inside him and never pull out. Wrong, wrong, wrong, so good--

Tommy comes with a weak cry, but oddly, he doesn't feel satisfied.

"My turn," Alex says, wiping his sticky hand on Tommy's shirt.

_Prick_ , Tommy thinks dazedly, letting Alex push him onto his back. Now what?

"I'm gonna fuck your mouth," Alex states calmly, unzipping his fly.

Tommy blinks, wants to protest, to refuse--it's too gay and he's no homo--but then Alex's straddling his chest and there's a long, thick cock nudging his mouth.

Before Tommy can stop himself, his tongue darts out and licks the fat head.

Alex sucks a sharp breath in. "Yeah, come on. Suck it, babe." He pauses and clears his throat. "Come on, mate. Help a bloke out."

Tommy isn't sure if sucking a mate's cock can be called  "helping him out," but he doesn't care. He can't stop. He just can't. He wants to put Alex's cock in his mouth, wants to suck it; he just _wants_. So he does.

Alex groans as Tommy opens his mouth and takes as much of Alex's cock inside as he can. It tastes weird, but the cock feels so good, stretching his lips to the limit, silky and yet hard, and suddenly Tommy is aroused again. He moans around Alex's cock and grabs his own, wanking himself as he sucks Alex's sloppily.

"Yeah, fuck, so good, babe," Alex babbles incoherently, and starts thrusting into his mouth.

Tommy doesn't know how long it lasts. All he knows is that he's lost, lost in the wrong, sickening pleasure of being used as Alex babbles something demeaning about how good Tommy's mouth feels and how he's gonna fuck Tommy's mouth all the time now, and how Tommy is born to take Alex's cock in his every hole. Tommy wants to punch him for all the shit he says, but at the same time, he loves it. He _loves_ it. It's wrong and sick and perverted, but he _loves_  being used. He's moaning around Alex's cock and asking for more, again and again.

Afterwards, as he regains the ability to think, Tommy tells himself it was a one time thing and it'll never happen again. He's normal. He's not like that.

"Stop thinking so loudly," Alex says into his ear, putting his arm around Tommy's waist. There's something disturbingly proprietary about the gesture that Tommy isn't sure he hates as much as he would like.

"It's never happening again," Tommy says.

"Sure."

"I'm serious, Alex."

"Sure," Alex says, his voice already sleepy, before sucking a love bite into Tommy's skin.

"I hate you," Tommy says, giving him a better access to his neck.

Alex chuckles softly into his skin and pulls him closer. Tighter. "Stop thinking. Sleep."

Tommy does.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Tommy feels like he can't breathe.

The worst thing is, he knew this day would come. Of course he knew. Alex is from a different regiment. The likelihood of them staying at the same place has always been infinitesimal.

But he's still caught off-guard. When the new orders come, his limbs feel weak, his chest tightening with blind panic.

"I guess this is it," Alex says, breaking the strained silence.

They're sitting on the bank, in their usual spot away from other people's eyes. The sun is setting, its dying rays casting everything in orange.

It's picturesque.

Tommy pulls his knees to his chest and says nothing. What is there to say? Alex is going to be stationed two hundred miles away. He's leaving in two days.

Maybe it's for the best. This... thing between them will finally end. Tommy will finally be free. Free of him.

"Nothing to say?" Alex says, slinging an arm around Tommy's shoulders. The gesture is casual. Perfectly innocent. Perfectly friendly.

Except they're not friends.

Friends actually talk. Friends don't do things he and Alex do in the dark. Sometimes, when Alex ignores him and flirts shamelessly with the waitress in the local cafeteria, Tommy thinks their thing is just a bad, twisted dream--that it's not real. Except his throat is often sore in the mornings, his lips red and chapped from stretching around Alex's thick cock. Even thinking about it in the daylight makes Tommy's face burn.

Does he really let Alex do that to him every night? Sometimes he can't believe it. It's so surreal. Why is this happening to him? He's not a poofter. Tommy likes girls, their soft curves, bright lipsticks, and sweet scent. He isn't into hard muscles and strong jaws, no matter how handsome Alex might be--objectively speaking. And he most definitely isn't into cock. He likes vagina. He loves vagina, okay? Not that Tommy has been with a lot of birds, but he's only nineteen. His point is, he really likes girls, not blokes. Never blokes.

But, no matter what he tells himself, no matter how wrong and sick the mere idea seems in the daylight, Tommy somehow finds himself with Alex's cock in his mouth every night without fail--and loving every fucking second of it.

The worst thing is, he can't even claim that it's about "helping a mate out," not anymore. Because it definitely isn't normal to get off on sucking a mate's cock. The most mortifying part is, Alex doesn't even need to wank him properly these days--Tommy is already on the verge of coming just from the heady feeling of Alex's cock moving in his mouth and Alex's hands pulling at his hair and pushing Tommy's head onto his cock. Sometimes Alex holds his face still and just forces him to _take_ it. Tommy hates when he does it, because he usually loses all self-control and comes completely untouched.

The memory makes Tommy's cheeks heat up again. He's such a pervert, isn't he? His mum would be so ashamed of him if she knew what a pervert he's become.

Clearing his throat, Tommy shakes Alex's arm off. "What is there to say?" he says testily, staring at the other side of the river, even though there's nothing remotely interesting there, just trees.

There's a long, strained silence.

"I guess there isn't," Alex says tonelessly. He moves to stand.

Tommy grabs his arm before he can stop himself.

Alex turns back and looks at him, his stupidly handsome face oddly blank. "What? Got something to say after all?"

And suddenly, Tommy feels a rush of pure hatred for him. It's all his fault. It's all Alex's fault that he's so messed up and sick in the head now. Tommy _hates_  him. He fucking hates him so much. He hates him, hates him, hates him--

He shoves Alex and pushes him to the ground, fingers digging into Alex's shoulders. He knows Alex can probably free himself pretty easily--he's bigger and stronger than Tommy--but Alex doesn't even attempt it, watching him calmly with the same infuriatingly blank face.

"Now what, mate?" Alex says.

Mate.

Lately Tommy kind of hates the word. So hearing it only pisses him off more.

So he says in a mild tone, "Just wanted to ask aren't you going to miss the hole you put your prick into?"

It's immensely satisfying to see Alex's blank expression crack. The git clearly didn't expect him to suddenly talk about the pink elephant they've been studiously ignoring for the past two weeks.

But Alex's surprise doesn't last long. His jaw tightens, his eyes darkening. The next thing Tommy knows, Alex rolls them over, pinning him to the ground.

"It depends," Alex says, something nasty about his tone. "Are you going to miss my cock?"

Tommy glowers at him. "Fuck you!"

Alex opens his mouth, probably about to say something mean and sarcastic, but then something shifts in his eyes. He closes his mouth without saying anything and just _looks_ at Tommy for a long moment.

"I'm leaving in two days, Tommy," he says quietly.

Tommy swallows around the sudden tightness in his throat. He looks into Alex's green eyes and sees the same unease that he feels. The same fear.

Because no matter how bad they are at talking about it, they both know it's not the lack of orgasms they're worried about. This thing between them...it's never been about getting off, at least not for him. He just needs to feel Alex closer, tighter, _deeper_ \--and sex is the only way he can get that. Sex is only thing that can sate that ugly need for a short while.

"Maybe it's for the best," Tommy manages, trying and failing to tear his gaze away from Alex's eyes. He feels like he's drowning in them. A part of him wants to drown in them. Wants to disappear in them.

God, he needs help.

"This is unhealthy," Tommy whispers. "Unhealthy as fuck."

Alex nods slowly, his jaw still clenched. "Distance will probably help."

"Yeah," Tommy says with a weak smile, as though his insides aren't churning with blind panic at the mere thought of Alex's leaving. "It'll surely pass."

Alex nods again, his eyes roaming all over Tommy's face with an odd sort of intensity. Almost hungrily. "Of course it will," he says, his calm voice at odds with the expression on his face. "It'll probably be easier if we don't do--you know. It's messing with our heads. And we should probably stop eating together and stuff."

Tommy nods, curling his hands into fists so that they don't grab Alex. This is a good idea. It is. Distance will do them good. The sooner they put some distance between them, the easier it will be when Alex leaves.

They stare at each other.

A beat passes, then another.

Tommy doesn't know which of them moves first, but then they're kissing, mouths wet and hungry, hands buried in each other's hair. God, Alex's mouth feels so good, and Tommy can't get enough. He wraps his legs around Alex's hips, pulling him closer, onto him, until Alex is everywhere, crushing him under his weight, so perfectly heavy and solid.

Alex deepens the kiss, his tongue practically fucking his mouth, and it sends a dirty thrill through Tommy's body. He wants it. He wants to fuck. No, that's not right--he wants to be fucked. At the moment he doesn't give a shit that it's sick and perverted and will probably hurt like hell, but he wants Alex to put himself inside him and make them whole. He wants Alex everywhere inside his body. He wishes he could suck Alex's cock while Alex fucks him and kiss Alex at the same time--he wants--he wants-- God, he _wants_. He wants so much he feels like he'll die if Alex takes his mouth away.

Tommy whines miserably when Alex breaks the kiss. "No--need more kisses. Want." Great. He sounds like a mindless junkie. To be fair, he feels like a junkie. Why is Alex not kissing him?

Alex shakes his head and sits up, a tight expression on his face. "I think I heard someone." He glances at Tommy and quickly averts his gaze, a muscle ticking in his jaw. "Stop looking like that. You look like you've had your brains shagged out."

Tommy glares at him and sits up. He pulls his knees to his chest to hide his erection just as a fellow soldier approaches them, saying something about the rations.

Tommy barely listens to Alex's conversation with the bloke. He isn't even sure he's capable of following the conversation, so dizzy and hot he feels, and he hates Alex for looking so calm and casual. Alex even laughs with the bloke. Is he not as affected by this as Tommy? What if he's the only one who feels this?

A wave of mortification, anger, and shame washes over him.

Finally, the soldier claps Alex on the shoulder and walks away.

Alex doesn't turn back to Tommy.

Silence falls between them, the air so thick with tension Tommy struggles to breathe.

He's pissed off, but he doesn't know what to say. If he voiced his thoughts, he'd end up sounding like an insecure clingy bird. It's not as though he has _feelings_ for Alex or something. He doesn't. It's not like that. It isn't.

But...

He's sick of being the needy one. So fucking sick of this. He wants Alex to lose his composure, to be the needy wreck for once.

So Tommy moves. He straddles Alex's lap and loops his arms around Alex's neck.

Alex stiffens, his muscles tensing under his touch. He glances around. "Are you mad? Someone might see us. It's not dark yet. We're lucky Scoles hasn't seen us--"

Tommy presses his lips against Alex's sharp jawline, and feels Alex's breathing hitch, Alex's body going rigid.

"What are you doing?" Alex says tersely.

Tommy parts his lips and drags his mouth along Alex's jawline wetly.

When he reaches Alex's ear, Tommy whispers, "I want us to get naked and then I want you to fuck me."

Alex _shudders_.

"I'm not a poof," Alex says, but it doesn't sound all that convincing when his hands are all over Tommy's arse. "I don't wanna fuck you, mate. That would be too weird."

"Yeah," Tommy murmurs, nuzzling at Alex's jaw. He's overheard girls in the town talk about Alex's jaw--about how strong and attractive it is--and it kind of annoys him that he agrees with them. It also annoys him that he hates that those girls ogle his Alex as a piece of meat.

Tommy squeezes his eyes shut. For fuck's sake. His Alex? He really needs help. This is getting ridiculous. Alex isn't his.

Not to mention that Alex will be gone in two days.

He'll never see Alex again.

He'll be alone.

Tommy swallows--tries to but can't. His lungs don't seem to be working properly, and he feels like he's drowning again. His eyes are burning, and Tommy rolls off Alex's lap and _runs_ before Alex can see the tears in his eyes and get the wrong idea.

Or the right idea.

He doesn't even know anymore.

 

* * *

 

Tommy avoids Alex for the rest of the day. He chooses to sleep in some farmer's backyard, alone for the first time in ages.

But sleep doesn't come. He turns from one side to the other, trying to ignore the uncomfortable itch under his skin, as if he's put together wrong.

 _I can do this, I can do this, I can do this_ , he mouths to himself, ignoring his sweaty palms and squeezing his eyes shut in order not to look into the darkness. Nothing's coming for him. He's safe. He's safe. He's alone because he chose to be. He's not lonely, he's not abandoned, he's _fine_. He can fucking function without Alex for one night. He can. He's not that pathetic.

In the morning, Tommy's eyes feel like they're full of sand, and his hands are shaking so badly he has to clench them into fists. He hasn't gotten a blink of sleep last night.

As he enters the barracks, his eyes are already searching Alex.

When he finally spots him, Tommy feels his body relax for the first time since yesterday and he immediately feels beyond pathetic. He really is pathetic, isn't he?

Alex doesn't even look at him. He's laughing with other blokes.

Tommy turns around and walks out. He doesn't manage ten steps outside before someone grabs his arm.

"Where the hell have you been?" Alex growls, his eyes roaming all over Tommy's face.

Tommy hates how much more alive he feels just from Alex's proximity. "Around. Let go."

Alex narrows his eyes. He doesn't let go. His grip tightening, he drags Tommy behind some garages and shoves him against the wall.

"You've been avoiding me," he says. It sounds like an accusation.

Tommy lifts his chin. "So what?"

Alex glares. "You aren't--you aren't allowed to avoid _me_."

Tommy stares at him. For the first time, he notices that Alex doesn't look fine at all. There are dark circles under his eyes, as if he had trouble sleeping, and Alex's hand seems unable to relax its grip on Tommy.

"You said I could fuck you," Alex says tightly, his eyes boring into Tommy's. "I want to." His jaw works. "I want to get this thing out of my system. To get _you_ out of my system."

Tommy wants to punch him. Except he gets it. Maybe that's what they really need to get back to normal. Because this surely isn't normal.

So Tommy says, "I want to get you out of my system, too. I fucking hate this."

Alex's nostrils flare. He glances around before shoving himself against Tommy and kissing him hard. It's a rough, angry kiss that feels more like punishment than affection. It shouldn't feel good, but it does. God help them, it does.

When Alex pulls back, Tommy's knees are weak and his lips feel bruised and swollen.  
Alex's eyes are dark, his pupils so blown they seem black. He touches Tommy's mouth with trembling fingers before wrenching his hand away and grinding out, "Tonight."

Alex walks away and Tommy sags against the wall, forcing himself not to run after Alex like a lovesick puppy.

He closes his eyes and breathes.

In and out.

Tonight.

A part of him can't believe he's really going to do it. But maybe it'll help. Maybe it'll finally cure them of this sickness.

It has to.

 _Please_.

 

 

* * *

 

It's surprisingly easy.

Tommy thought it would feel more weird, more awkward, more wrong--neither of them has done it before--but it's not.

It becomes a little weird when Alex pushes a slick finger into him, but Tommy doesn't mind. He's glad. He doesn't want to like this, so any weirdness is good.

Tommy stares at the stars as Alex pushes another finger in. It feels strange. He doesn't get why gay blokes do it. He's glad he isn't gay.

Alex starts scissoring his fingers and Tommy frowns, beginning to feel uneasy. Alex's fingers inside him still feel odd but also kind of good. He feels pleasantly full.

"You like it," Alex says.

Tommy kicks him and spreads his legs wider. "Just put it in. The sooner we start, the sooner it's over."

"Charming," Alex says dryly, pushing a third finger in.

"If you wanted charming, you're with the wrong person," Tommy grumbles, swallowing back a moan as Alex's fingers brush against something inside him. He doesn't want to like this, dammit. "Hurry up. Just put it in."

Alex pulls his fingers out, lines up and pushes in slowly.

Oh God.

Tommy wants to hate it, but he doesn't. He likes it. He likes the way Alex's cock fills him up, making him so deliciously full. Tommy wants more. "Alex," he whispers.

"Yeah," Alex says breathlessly. He props himself on his elbows above Tommy and gives him a bruising kiss, his cock slamming deeper into him. They both moan, kissing sloppily as Alex fucks him, hard and fast. He isn't gentle in the least, but that's what Tommy needs.

He loves it, loves looking at the dark sky dazedly and just taking it, taking Alex as deep inside him as he can. It feels amazing, even when Alex doesn't hit that sweet spot inside him. He loves being so full, feeling Alex inside him, over him, on him-- _AlexAlexAlexAlex_ \--and God, he doesn't know how he will ever live without this feeling.

The thought makes his chest tight and he clings to Alex desperately, fingers digging into Alex's shoulders, wanting him closer, deeper. "Harder," he begs, his eyes filling with tears. He wants Alex to imprint himself into his insides, so that he could feel him forever. "Please."

Alex buries his face in his neck and sets a brutal pace, his hips snapping forward, his fingers probably leaving finger-shaped bruises on Tommy's thighs.

God, God, _God_.

Tommy feels delirious, moaning and whimpering, so good it feels. He's probably being too loud, but at the moment, he doesn't care if anyone hears them. He's not sure he'd be able to stop moaning even if his entire regiment watched them fuck.

"Fuck, why does this feel so good," Alex says into his skin, sounding absolutely _wrecked_ as he fucks into Tommy like it's the reason he lives.

 _I hate you I need you,_  Tommy thinks dazedly, wrapping his limbs around Alex and holding on. It's still not close enough, tight enough.

"Come in me," he whispers. "Wanna be full of you."

Alex shudders and comes with a low groan, deep inside him. Tommy lets out a satisfied sigh, ruts against Alex's stomach and comes, still clinging to Alex for dear life. He isn't letting go. He'll never letting go.

They don't move for a long time, Alex's body heavy on top of him, shielding him from the world outside of Alex's arms. It's perfect, as far as Tommy is concerned. He feels warm, protected, and safe.

He feels home.

Maybe tomorrow he'll feel differently. But for now, it's enough.

More than enough.


	3. Five years later

June 1945

 

 

His mother looks weary and older than her years, but her smile is just as warm and her embrace feels as comforting as it did in his childhood.

She cries in Tommy's arms. She feels smaller than he remembers. But then again, maybe he remembers wrong. It's been six long years.

When Tommy pulls back, his mum smiles at him through her tears. "I can't believe it's finally over, baby. Everything can go back to normal now."

Tommy returns her smile, but doesn't have the heart to tell her that it's impossible.

The war might be pretty much over, but it stole from him more than six years of his life. He's not the naive, bright-eyed eighteen-year-old that once left his home, determined to protect his country.

He's scarred, in more ways than one. He feels drained.

Empty.

Sometimes he thinks this damned war stole from him even the ability to feel joy.

Or maybe it wasn't the war.

Maybe it was Dunkirk.

Maybe it was Alex.

 

 

* * *

 

Human memory is a funny thing. So fickle and unreliable. It's been five years, and Tommy doesn't remember anymore what Alex said to him before leaving.

But he remembers with crystal clarity the wind blowing in his face as he watched Alex board the train.

He remembers the feeling of his heart beating somewhere in his throat.

He remembers the urge to run after the train, glue himself to Alex's side and beg him to never leave him.

He remembers crying himself to sleep the first night, feeling scared and achingly alone and wanting Alex to make it better.

He remembers going numb after a while (Weeks, months later? He isn't sure).

He remembers learning to push his emotions and needs to the back of his mind and do things that needed to get done.

The problem is, it seems that along the way, he's lost his ability to feel much of anything. He doesn't know how to get it back.

He doesn't know if he wants it back.

 

 

* * *

 

Sometimes he dreams of Alex. It doesn't happen all that often, but it does happen, even after all these years. Tommy isn't sure what it says about him that he still dreams about a bloke he had a short, fucked up (sort of) relationship with five years ago. Probably nothing good.

In his dreams, it's always that damned boat. But instead of the French lad, Tommy is the one accused of being a German.

There are two versions of this dream. In one of them, Alex tries to convince everyone that Tommy is a German spy and that he deserves to die ( _he should have died_ ). In the other, he's shielding Tommy from the others as they try to throw him out of the boat. 

Tommy kind of hates both dreams, for two different reasons.

The only thing they have in common is that he always wakes up feeling restless and reaching for something that isn't there.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Two months after returning home, Tommy starts dating a young woman called Megan.

To be completely honest, he does it just to get his mum off his back. She's been throwing him concerned looks all the time lately and Tommy doesn't want to worry her. He wants her to think her son is a perfectly functional human being, even if it's a lie.

Megan is pretty, he supposes. She's sociable and charming, and she wants him. Tommy genuinely tries to feel something for her, but there's nothing. As usual.

At least his prick still seems to work. He manages to get it up, but finds himself completely frozen as he stares at her naked body. He can't imagine being intimate with her, can't imagine letting her touch his body without flinching. This is wrong.

"You okay?" she says with a chuckle.

"No," Tommy says and starts dressing. "Sorry."

She stares at him incredulously. "You're leaving? Really?"

Tommy has never dressed so fast in his life. "I'm sorry," he repeats lamely, reaching for the doorknob.

"Is there someone else?"

Tommy almost laughs. It's kind of funny. "No."

He isn't sure he's telling the truth.

Lately, he feels like all he does is lie--to his mum, to Megan, and to himself.

It's a lie that he doesn't remember what Alex said to him before leaving.

He does remember, but he's shoved that conversation so far to the back of his mind that he can almost convince himself that he doesn't remember it.

He's become very good at self-deception.

He does remember that conversation. He wishes he didn't.

 

* * *

 

_"So..." Alex says, glancing at his watch._

_His train is leaving soon._

_Tommy folds his arms over his chest and looks around the crowded platform. "So."_

_Alex chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. "Awkward."_

_Tommy's lips twitch. "Very."_

_They smile at each other. Tommy wonders if it's the first time they truly smiled at each other._

_It's probably also the last time. No, not_ probably; _it definitely is the last time. It's a goodbye. And with the way the war is going, it's very likely either of them isn't going to see the new year._

_Tommy doesn't know if his expression changes, but Alex's does, his eyes turning grim._

_He suddenly steps closer and puts his hands on Tommy's shoulders. "You aren't going to die, mate."_

_Tommy blinks and gives a laugh. "Are you a seer now?"_

_Alex doesn't laugh, his green eyes locking on his intently. "We aren't gonna die in this war," he says in a clipped voice. "If we survived Dunkirk, we'll survive anything. We'll survive this stupid war."_

_Tommy licks his dry lips. "And?"_

_Alex's gaze drops to Tommy's mouth for a moment before he looks him in the eye again. "I'll find you."_

_Tommy's stomach feels funny. "Don't be ridiculous," he manages with a snort. "You'll forget my name in a few months. The war may not end in years."_

_The unsaid "If we even see it end" hangs in the air between them._

_Alex glances at the other soldiers on the platform before suddenly pulling him into a hug. "Will you?" he says into Tommy's ear. "Forget my name?"_

_Tommy blinks rapidly. "Of course I will," he says, closing his eyes and allowing himself to bury his nose in Alex's neck, just for a moment._

_It's reckless--they're attracting looks already--but he can't. He can't. He needs it. So he breathes in Alex's familiar scent, for the last time, trying to take as much of it into his lungs as he can._

_"Liar," Alex says, his arms tightening around Tommy. His lips brush Tommy's ear as he whispers hoarsely, "You're mine. You know you're mine. You always will be."_

_Tommy opens his mouth to deny it, but nothing comes out, so achy his throat is._

_The train blows a whistle._

_It's time._

_Alex steps away._

_Tommy's body sways and takes an involuntary step toward him. He barely stops himself from grabbing Alex and begging him to not leave him._

_He can't do that. He won't. People are already looking at them strangely. They hugged for too long as it is._

_So he does nothing and just watches Alex get on the train._

_Alex turns, looking back for the last time, his handsome face set into tight lines._

_Green eyes hold his for a moment that feels like forever._

_Then, he's gone._

_And Tommy... Tommy gathers all his willpower and manages not to break down right there and then._

 

 

* * *

 

 

"Sweetheart," his mother says one day, a few weeks after he broke up with Megan. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Tommy looks at her across the table. "I don't understand what you're talking about."

She gives him a sad look. "You're unhappy."

Tommy shrugs, avoiding her eyes. "I'm okay."

"Don't lie to your mother," she says.

Tommy grimaces. "What do you want me to say? I'm trying."

"Are you?" she says. "Are you really trying? I don't see it. You're just going through the motions, doing things to survive." She takes his hand and squeezes. "Stop surviving, baby. Start living."

Tommy stares at her. He wonders if Alex has started living.

If Alex survived at all.

The thought makes him sick. It's one of the reasons he hasn't even attempted to find out if Alex survived the war. It's better not to know for sure.

Not that there's a high chance to find out what happened to Alex even if he wanted to.

Tommy's gaze falls to the newspaper on the table.

He pauses.

Alex used to love reading this newspaper.  
Tommy knows there's a special section created for people who look for their friends and loved ones that have gone missing in the war.

Maybe... Maybe he could...

Tommy bites his lip. But what if Alex doesn't respond?

Or worse, what if he does?

 

 

* * *

 

 

It takes Tommy a month to gather the courage to do it. When he finally decides that he's definitely doing it, he's stuck again, unsure what to write.

Looking for the soldier whose prick I sucked for a few weeks? Looking for the bloke called Alex that has me fucked up even after five years?

What could he possibly write that might catch Alex's attention? _(if Alex is alive)_

Tommy looks at other people's messages in the Missing Persons section to get some inspiration and his gaze catches on one particular message.

_Looking for my good mate Tommy, a scrawny lad with dark hair and eyes. We became best pals on a French beach in June 1940. If found, please return to Alex._

Tommy stares at the small message in disbelief before a strangled laugh leaves his throat. He laughs, laughs, and laughs, until there are tears in his eyes.

That arrogant prick.

He missed him.

He _misses_ him.

Alex is alive.

He's alive.

And he's looking for Tommy, too.

Tommy's gaze lingers on the words "my good mate." Tommy doesn't think they've ever been good mates, but if they both survived, maybe it's their chance to finally be friends.

Tommy ignores the sarcastic voice at the back of his mind that whispers in disbelief, _Friends_?

Yes, friends, Tommy tells himself firmly. It's been five years. He and Alex are just former comrades in arms. Survivors of Dunkirk. Nothing more.

The war is over and they have no reason to... to want those perverted things. During the war, those things could have been explained away as trauma, stress, fear--Tommy knows he and Alex weren't the only ones that sought comfort in each other in those circumstances-- but there's no such excuse anymore. Tommy doesn't think of Alex that way. He doesn't. He's sure Alex doesn't think of him that way, either.

All Tommy wants is...to see Alex, make sure he's okay, and get some closure. Because he doesn't want " _You'll always be mine_ " to be the last words Alex ever said to him. They're messing with Tommy's head. That's why he needs closure.

That's it.

 

  
* * *

 

The address the newspaper gives him is in Scotland; it's a farm a good distance from any major city.

Two days later, Tommy hugs his mum goodbye and boards the train. His mum is oddly pleased to see him go. "I just want you to be happy," she says as she hugs him. "If you need to see that...friend of yours for that, I understand."

There is something strange about the way she says "friend," as if she knows the truth. But it's silly. If his mother knew the truth, she would have been horrified, not supportive.

It's an unusually warm, sunny day when Tommy arrives at a small farm in the middle of nowhere.

The house is locked and no one seems to be home.

Tommy drops his bag on the ground, wipes the sweat on his brow, and goes looking around. His stomach is knotted with disappointment when he can't find anyone. There's nothing but cows around.

Maybe that message wasn't even from _his_ Alex. Maybe his Alex is actually long dead, buried in a nameless grave somewhere in Egypt, or China, or Siberia--

"Hey, mate! Are you lost or something?"

Tommy goes very still.

Slowly, he turns around.

He stares at the tall, muscular man in a sweat-soaked white tank shirt. He has little in common with the lanky boy in an immaculate uniform that boarded the train all those years ago. Even his face is different--it's still handsome, maybe even more handsome--but it's the face of a man in his prime, not that of a boy. 

Tommy shifts from one foot to the other, his stomach twisting. Clearly it was a mistake to come. They aren't the same people anymore. This is not the Alex he remembers. He should go.

But before he can go, the other man walks close enough for Tommy to see his eyes--

And it feels like time stops, every noise muting as Tommy's pulse skyrockets and his heart starts to pound.

He knows those eyes. They never failed to make him feel like he was drowning in them and apparently nothing has changed in that regard.

Alex comes to an abrupt halt, staring at him wide-eyed.

"Hello," Tommy croaks out with a shaky smile. "I don't know if you remember me, but we've become pals on a French beach in 1940."

Alex laughs, and suddenly he's right there, crushing Tommy in his arms.

Tommy sucks in a sharp breath before putting his arms around Alex's back.

And then their arms tighten, and it's _perfect_ , it's beyond perfect, their bodies fitting together just right, as if they were made for it. Made to be wrapped around each other. It's ridiculous. It's been five bloody years. Five years.

Alex's arms squeeze him harder and Tommy lets out a small whimper, pressing his face to the crook of Alex's neck.

"I do remember," Alex says thickly, kissing Tommy's ear, mouthing the side of his face. "Told you. I knew you'd make it."

Tommy closes his eyes. God. Alex's voice, his scent, his warmth, his _mouth_ on Tommy's skin, and the feel of his arms around him... Tommy feels like he's high—it's almost too much after years of nothing—and he can't stop touching Alex, stroking Alex's back, rediscovering every muscle, like an addict finally given access to his favorite drug. Alex. His Alex.

Alex kisses the side of his mouth. Tommy whines and turns his head, needing Alex's lips.

He sighs in bliss as their mouths finally lock together. Kissing Alex feels both familiar and completely new. This kiss is different from the angry, bruising kisses they shared years ago--it's slower but endlessly hungry and needy--and it makes Tommy's knees go weak with want. Alex groans and kisses him harder, his large hands moving down to cup Tommy's arse and lift him a little.

Tommy honestly doesn't know how he ends up with his legs wrapped around Alex's waist, clinging to him like a monkey in heat, but he can't control his body at all. He feels _starved_ , delirious with want, hands pulling Alex's shirt off and roaming all over that muscle.

"Wait," Alex says between the heated kisses. He sounds as drunk as Tommy feels. "We probably shouldn't do this." Contrary to his words, he kisses Tommy again, his mouth hot, wet, and utterly perfect.

"We probably shouldn't," Tommy agrees, biting Alex's bottom lip and then trailing a wet trail of kisses to Alex's ear. There's a voice at the back of his mind trying to remind him that he wanted Alex and him to be just friends. It seems ridiculous now. He doesn't want to be Alex's friend. He never wanted Alex's friendship. He's greedy; he wants Alex's everything. He wants Alex's touch, Alex's eyes on him, Alex's hands on his skin, Alex's body against him, on him, _in_ him.

Tommy bites Alex's earlobe and says hoarsely, "Where's your bed?"

Alex swears and strides toward the house with Tommy in his arms, as if Tommy weighs nothing. His eyes closed, Tommy puts his head on Alex's shoulder and tries to make sense of what is happening. One might think it would be easier to be rational now that his mouth isn't attached to Alex's, but it's actually harder. His whole being _burns_ with want and he presses his body tighter against Alex's.

"Hurry up," Tommy grumbles, stroking Alex's muscular back. _Mine_ , comes a possessive thought. _Mine, mine, mine._

Alex laughs, but it sounds pained.

Finally, they're inside the house, and Tommy's back hits the soft mattress that smells like Alex.

"Strip," Alex says tersely, pulling off his own shirt.

Tommy doesn't need to be told twice. He sits up and starts undressing, fingers trembling with impatience. He wants to be naked with Alex, wants to feel his bare skin against his own. As much as being intimate with Megan seemed wrong and off-putting, the thought of being intimate with Alex feels as natural as breathing, as if Alex has all the right to touch his body. 

_(You'll always be mine.)_

By the time Tommy manages to get naked, Alex already is. Tommy feels breathless just from looking at Alex's naked body. His mouth waters at the sight of that long, thick cock. He wants to have it in his mouth.

As if reading his thoughts, Alex steps to the bed, takes Tommy's head in his hand and rubs his cock against Tommy's cheek.  
Eager, Tommy parts his lips.

"Still gagging for it," Alex murmurs, his eyes dark and intense. "How many cocks you sucked after mine?"

Tommy shakes his head.

"Good," Alex says, his gaze hungry on Tommy's face. He nudges his cock between Tommy's lips and Tommy opens his mouth wider, eager to suck it.

But Alex barely lets him get a taste before suddenly pushing him off his cock. "No." He reaches for the drawer and pulls out a bottle with some kind of oil. "Wanna fuck you for real."

Tommy's dick is more than fine with that plan. He lies back on the bed, a little self-conscious of his skinny body. But judging by the hunger in Alex's eyes as his gaze roams over him, Alex likes his body just fine. It makes Tommy feel almost beautiful, which he knows is ridiculous. He isn't beautiful. And blokes aren't supposed to want to be beautiful for other blokes.

"You're so damn pretty," Alex says, stroking Tommy's thighs as he spreads them. "As pretty as any bird."

Tommy scowls at him, ignoring the warmth rushing to his cheeks. "Don't be silly. Shut up and get on with it."

Alex does.

Both of them are too impatient for proper foreplay--they want to fuck too much--so it hurts when Alex finally pushes inside him.

"Should have used another finger," Alex grits out through his clenched teeth, pressing his forehead to Tommy's as they wait for his initial discomfort to subside.

Tommy shakes his head, threading his fingers through Alex's dark hair. He doesn't mind the pain. He feels too good to care about something so insignificant. He feels...He feels...

Tommy smiles dazedly. He _feels_. He hasn't forgotten how to feel joy, after all.

"Tommy?" Alex says. There's something like concern in his voice. "All right?"

Tommy simply nods. He doesn't trust himself not to say something stupid, fucked up and embarrassing. Something like _I felt incomplete without yo_ u, or _You fucked me up so badly you're the only thing that makes me happy._

"I missed you," he whispers instead.

He feels Alex's breathing hitch, his muscles locking up above him.

When Alex says nothing, Tommy feels awkward. "Like, I know it's stupid. We've known each other for a month and it's been--"

"I couldn't sleep without you," Alex says, his voice rough. "For a long time. Still barely sleep these days, but it was way worse back then. And when the war ended, I tried to go out with birds, even tried to fuck a few, but..." He laughs. It's a harsh, humorless sound. He doesn't explain what happened, just whispers, "What the fuck did you do to me?"

Tommy kisses the corner of Alex's mouth, running his hands through Alex's hair. He wraps his legs around Alex's waist, sighing at the feeling of Alex inside him. "Fuck me. Please."

Alex groans and finally starts moving.

But of course he doesn't shut up. "Dreamed of this," he says, panting against Tommy's mouth as he thrusts in and out. "Dreamed of fucking you."

"Must be nice," Tommy manages, letting out a long moan when Alex hits his sweet spot. It feels so fucking good he wishes they could do nothing but fuck all the time. Tommy could never really relate when other blokes talked about sex like it was the best thing in the world. Sex had always been kind of messy and awkward and a little silly to him. He's pretty sure he'd never even moaned during sex.

Until Alex.

When Alex fucks him, he can't seem to _stop_ moaning. Alex probably thinks he's a total slag. He isn't. It isn't Tommy's fault that he loses all control whenever he gets Alex's cock in him--and turns into a mindless, shameless, hypersexual thing that can't live without Alex's cock.

"More," Tommy says, moving to meet Alex's thrusts.

Alex complies, fucking him so hard that the headboard starts knocking against the wall.  
God. God. Tommy feels like he's in heaven. He can barely breathe under Alex's body, his hole stretched to the limit on Alex's thick cock, and all he wants is more.

He all loses track of time, his world narrowing to Alex's mouth, to Alex's body, to the cock moving inside him. So good, so perfect, God--

Tommy is only vaguely aware that his moans become obscenely loud as he nears his orgasm. Fuck, he can't, he can't--

"Come on," Alex growls into his ear.

Tommy arches and comes, clinging to Alex, his chest warm and his eyes wet.

He feels like he's floating.

Alex doesn't come with him. He fucks into him for a good five minutes while Tommy watches him breathlessly through heavy-lidded eyes. He likes this. He feels oversensitive, but he likes being used for Alex's pleasure as Alex chases his orgasm. He likes that he's the reason Alex looks so gone.

He's a little disappointed when Alex stops fucking him, but he loves watching Alex come and see his face alight with pleasure.

Alex is the beautiful one.

It's such a... gay thought, but Tommy figures it can't get gayer than getting fucked in the arse and loving it (and having feelings for another bloke, but Tommy _isn't_ thinking about it now).

"What's so funny?" Alex mumbles, dropping his head next to Tommy's.

Their faces are so close that he can see Alex's every eyelash.

"Huh?" Tommy says belatedly, realizing that Alex asked him something. He feels stupid. Alex makes him stupid.

"You're smiling," Alex says, touching Tommy's lips with a thumb. "It's weird. I think I've seen you smile a total of two times."

Tommy chuckles. "Yeah, because there were a lot of reasons to smile during the war."

"Right," Alex says, his lips twitching, too. "Still. It's weird. I guess I'll have to get used to you not scowling all the time."

Tommy's stomach flip flops. "Who says I'm staying?" He never really intended to stay--or at least that's what he's convinced himself in before boarding the train. "I told my mum I'd return tomorrow."

"You'll have to write her that you changed your mind," Alex says, throwing an arm over Tommy's chest. "You and I both know you aren't going anywhere."

Arrogant prick.

"Do we?" Tommy says with an eye-roll, but he can't help but feel fond. It's comforting to know some things never change. "And why is that?"

He expects Alex to smirk and say something infuriating, but Alex just looks at him steadily and says nothing for a long time. His Adam's apple bobs up and down.

"You still feel this too, right?" he says quietly, his green eyes boring into Tommy's.

Tommy moistens his lips with his tongue, his pulse quickening. He could play dumb and pretend he doesn't understand what Alex means.

But he doesn't.

Tommy swallows and nods.

He isn't going to have a nervous breakdown anymore when Alex isn't around--but the world still feels _right_ only when he's with Alex.

God, they're so screwed.

Alex presses their foreheads together. "Told you," he says, his voice thick with possessiveness, his arm tightening around Tommy. "You're still mine."

Tommy rolls his eyes with a chuckle but doesn't deny it. To his embarrassment, he actually likes the sound of it. He likes being Alex's.

He closes his eyes and nuzzles into Alex's cheek, breathing in his familiar, comforting scent.

"Yours," he whispers.

Always.

 

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! :)


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